


Small Miracles

by JSinister32



Series: All I Want for Christmas [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas Advent, Fluff, Forgiveness, Hannibal and Will Put Up a Christmas Tree, Light Angst, M/M, so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28046043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JSinister32/pseuds/JSinister32
Summary: Christmas Advent 2020 Day 1Hannibal and Will had been split up for many years, but the ache of Will's absence never failed to hit the worst over the holidays.  When Hannibal arrives home on December 1st, he comes to find that miracles never cease.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: All I Want for Christmas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054409
Comments: 22
Kudos: 157





	Small Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> I will be writing short holiday fiction all the way up til Christmas Day. It will all be fluffy and fun, with my warmest hugs to you all. I cannot tell you how much each and every person who reads these stories means to me, and the joy you bring me just by existing.
> 
> Hearts and Body Parts,  
> JM 🤍

_“Freshly cut Christmas trees smelling_  
_Of stars and snow and pine resin-_  
_Inhale deeply and fill your soul_  
_With wintry night.”_  
_-John Geddes_

* * *

Hannibal stared at his computer screen without really seeing it, his eyes red and aching from the glow. He was tired to the bone, an exhaustion that had set itself so deeply within him that he could barely move, let alone contemplate the drive home. Glancing at the clock in the corner of the screen, he was equally dismayed and unsurprised to find that midnight had come and gone. _Time flies when you_ _’re avoiding an empty house,_ he thought dismally. 

The doctor stood, letting his body pop and groan as it realigned. He didn’t know how long he had been at his desk, staring at the blank email page he meant to send, but the sun had been up when he had taken a seat before the computer. After pulling up his ex lover’s email address, he typed sentence after sentence, trying to find the best phrasing for such a letter out of the blue. He had raked his hands through his hair, paced the room and had far too much black tea to settle his nerves, all in the name of an apology that was too late in coming. After hours of futile attempts, Hannibal found he couldn’t find the words he needed to make disrupting Will’s life okay. _Especially now, during the most festive time of the year. He won_ _’t want to hear from you when he may very well have someone else in his bed._

Rubbing at the side of his face, the doctor closed the laptop with a snap, the sound loud in the hush of his office. The fire had burned low enough that the logs that he managed to bring in had burned down to fiery red embers, the sparks rippling through what remained of the wood in hypnotic waves of color. For a moment, he contemplated taking a seat on the couch and pouring himself a glass of Scotch and sleeping on the couch, but he pushed the thought away without any true consideration. He was not getting any younger and besides, he had run out of the stash of clean suits he kept within his office closet that morning. The bed that graced his bedroom at home called to him, but it felt… wrong to sleep within its confines alone. _If only you hadn_ _’t been so stubborn, you wouldn’t be sleeping alone, or hovering in your office at all hours, afraid to face the emptiness you created._

Knowing he could put it off no longer, Hannibal sighed and donned his overcoat and gloves, winding a comfortable grey scarf around his neck to keep out the chill. A brief flash of a memory lanced through him as he tucked the ends of the scarf beneath his jacket; the look of delight and fear etched into Will’s face when he had handed Hannibal his very first gift, which happened to be the scarf in question. He had waited long minutes, absolutely certain Hannibal would laugh or scoff, tell him it was a stupid idea and he would never wear it. It had taken the doctor throwing it over Will’s neck, pulling him in for a heated kiss before he had believed that the other man actually liked it.

It still stained his cheeks a delicate shade of crimson every time Hannibal wore it, pleasure plain in his features. His face had always been so expressive; anger, hurt, laughter and lust had made their appearance equally. Hannibal never had to guess what Will was thinking; it was painted in the flash of his eyes, the turn of his mouth, as easy to read as his favorite book. The doctor winced, remembering the deep hurt spilling forth from the cerulean gaze when they had parted ways. It had been almost enough to make him apologize, to fall at his feet and beg for forgiveness, promise that he would never again question Will’s devotion to him. In the end, he had turned away, let the only person he had ever truly loved walk away, closing the door on all they could become with an almost audible slam.

Two years later, it still ached. His home, now devoid of the numerous pictures they had taken over the years, felt like an empty shell, a place devoid of happiness and light. The keepsakes they had gathered were carefully packed away, labeled so he didn’t accidentally open the box and have to experience the pain of their parting anew. The colorful shells Will liked to collect on the beach were now nestled in the woolen blanket he had purchased on their trip to Nepal, the painted wooden bowls they got in Mexico City side by side with the stone candle holders they brought home from Morocco. He had allowed the tears to fall the night he chose to pack their life away, the deep and aching chasm taking up residence in his heart from that moment on. No matter how much time passed, the pain never lessened. He was beginning to wonder if it ever would.

Hannibal walked to his vehicle, the biting wind ruffling his hair as he navigated down the icy path. By the time he reached his car, he was shivering violently, his keys sliding from his hand and into the snow beneath him as he attempted to unlock the driver’s side door. _Wonderful,_ he thought dismally. _What else could possibly go wrong tonight of all nights?_ The doctor bent in the snow, careful not to allow his knees to touch the ice as he searched for where his keys fell. Spotting them beneath his car, he knelt, already lamenting the water that soaked into his slacks. His trembling fingers gripped the keyring and he let out a triumphant whoop, the sound tossed about by the wind coursing around him. He slid behind the wheel, now fully awake with the bone numbing cold, and turned the key in his ignition. The blast of air shot straight to the damp spots on his knees in a frigid torrent. Hannibal cursed, his teeth chattering as he fumbled with the controls. The air finally under control, he put his car in reverse and began the trek home.

He didn’t want to think about Will, but it seemed that his exhaustion would allow him to do little else. It didn’t help that it was December 1st. Today was the day that their tree went up every year like clockwork, a tradition ingrained in them both from their first year together. They would wake early and Will would drive them out to the tree farm on the outskirts of Baltimore. Hand in hand, they would stroll through the forest until they found the perfect specimen. Some years, it had taken only a few minutes of deliberation, but more often than not, they’d wander in the quiet, snow crunching beneath their boots until Will, his eyes sparkling brightly with mirth, would exclaim that the tree they stood before was the one they had to have. Every couple of years, Hannibal would argue that it wasn’t quite right, just so they would continue their walk. Each time, they came back to the same tree that had been chosen and he would deem it their perfect tree. Will always laughed and kissed him until they couldn’t breathe.

The next thirty minutes were some of Hannibal’s favorite throughout the year; Will would take the axe given to him by the attendant at the gates and cut down their tree. The bunch and play of his biceps and forearms always ignited a fire in the pit of Hannibal’s stomach, his cock hard and aching in his jeans before the profiler would fell the tree. Together, they’d bind it and carry it to the car, placing it in the stand to soak while they showered. Every year without fail, they’d indulge themselves beneath the spray of water, letting it run cold while they soaped and stroked every inch of skin they could reach. By the time they reached the bed, Hannibal would be so hard that he was always a deep breath from begging. Will took the opportunity to ride him, pinning his arms to the bed as he took what he wanted, his eyes fogging over with pleasure. They always climaxed together, their waves of pleasure flowing between them as they kissed. Their lovemaking never lacked passion, but there was something decadent about the first day of December, the scent of pine and snow clinging to their skin, even after the shower. Sleep quickly followed, their limbs hot and pliant from orgasmic bliss.

When Hannibal awoke, Will would always have an ugly Christmas sweater and a smile waiting for him. Together they would make hot chocolate, laughing as they added too much whipped cream to the top. Hannibal would pull down the ornaments they collected over the years, and they’d spend the rest of the night stringing their prize with lights and hanging their memories onto its limbs until it gleamed with Christmas cheer. The crowning glory, a large pointed star encrusted with bright silver crystals, would be placed with reverence by Hannibal’s shaking hands, Will’s wound around his legs to keep him steady on the ladder. Once it was set, Hannibal would find the playlist they’d painstakingly crafted their first Christmas together, Will would put up the ladder, and they’d turn off all the lights, letting the magical glow of the tree illuminate the space before it. Hand in hand, they’d slow dance, letting the songs wind into one another as they swayed. Hannibal’s heart filled to bursting every year; it was a joy he never thought he would experience, yet the man in his arms gave him Christmas every single year.

Then, it was over. Hannibal tried to put up a tree the first year they were apart, purchasing a plastic monstrosity from the closest store, filling it with meaningless glass baubles. He had forgotten to purchase a new topper, and at the realization, fell to his knees and wept, letting his sorrow spill down his cheeks until his eyes turned puffy and he had nothing left within him to cry out. Without bothering to remove a single ornament, he had taken the entire tree out to the trash and tossed it in. Had he had any kind of gasoline, he would have burned it, neighbors be damned.

He hadn’t tried again. Every year, he looked at the blank space where they had spent so many blissful hours, and every year, he worked overtime for the first week of December, silently begging the pain to dissipate. By the time Christmas finally came, he could almost convince himself that it wasn’t so bad, being alone for the holidays. The very next year, the pain returned in full force, running him down like a freight train.

Hannibal made the final turn onto his driveway, thankful he had made it home without incident. His knees were still chilled from where he had knelt in the snow, his head fuzzy and spinning with exhaustion. Even with the date, he wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and pretend the day never happened. Parking before his front steps, Hannibal left his briefcase on the passenger seat and closed the door. He made his way wearily up the steps and unlocked the front door, stepping out of the cold with a sigh of relief.

He noticed the scent as he was struggling with the knots of his shoes. Snow. Pine sap. Fresh air. His heart contracted in a sudden and powerful wave of hope and fear, hardly daring to believe what his senses were trying to tell him. _No. Mind is playing tricks on me. That scent hasn_ _’t been here in years. It’s just the day._ Heart thundering, he let the shoe fall from his hand without a thought, the other still on his foot. Stepping into the hallway, his eyes took in the kaleidescope of multicolored lights dancing across his ceiling. He moved through the hall as if in a dream, coming to a halt when the tree came into view. Soft music drifted from somewhere deeper in the room, but Hannibal couldn’t make himself move forward. His eyes drank in the sight before him, taking in the ornaments he had so sorely missed. On a low limb sat the very first snowman Will had purchased for him, a delicate glass figurine filled with shiny white pearls. Near the top was Will’s squirrels, made from pine cones and twine. He put them in a place of pride every year, much to Hannibal’s mock dismay. He never thought he’d see them again, but there they were, right where they belonged.

A sound caught his attention, a distant scraping that filtered through Hannibal’s senses. Although unrecognizable, he realized it wasn’t unfamiliar. He lifted his eyes, closing them for a brief moment and sending a quick prayer that this wasn’t all a dream. When he opened them, Will stood before him, his hair tousled in a riot of curls around his face. The sweater he wore was a bright red disaster of Santa hats and lights that actually lit up when a small button in the collar was pressed. Hannibal’s heart contracted hard in his chest; he managed to gasp in a breath before even that ceased. The sweater had been the last one purchased before they had broken up, and had never been worn. Until now. 

Will set the ladder he had been dragging down in front of the tree before turning towards where Hannibal stood, rooted to the spot. He picked up the topper and held it out in offering, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“Would you like to do the honors?”

Hannibal’s eyes filled with tears and he let out a big, gasping breath before nodding. He moved forward as if in a dream took their bright, silvery star from his former lover’s hands, their fingers brushing together gently. The sparks that shot through Hannibal’s body cascaded down his spine, causing him to shiver, even as he turned to ascend the ladder. Will’s hands came up automatically to brace his waist, the touch so familiar, even with the years they spent apart, that it took Hannibal’s breath. Carefully, he leaned forward and topped the tree, affixing it carefully so it wouldn’t fall. Will helped him from the ladder and took it back into the garage, leaving the doctor to stand before the tree, tears streaming down his face as he stared at it with unconcealed wonder and fear. 

The hands that came around his waist caused him to start, the reverie broken. Will turned him slowly in his arms and began to sway to the quiet music filling the room around them. Hannibal automatically began to move, his eyes rounded, drinking in the sight before him as if Will’s face were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Will held his gaze, his own equally hungry as they moved.

“What-” Hannibal ventured, his voice shaking. He flushed, embarrassed, and cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?” Will smiled, his face so perfect, Hannibal’s heart attempted to pound itself to pieces at the sight.

“I wanted to talk,” he said, his voice low and as soothing as honey. “I’ve been… lost without you, Hannibal. A fucking flaming wreck, actually.” Hannibal laughed, the sound high and wild in the quiet. Will’s smile turned to a sheepish grin. “I’ve wanted to reach out so many times, but I was afraid that whatever we had was lost. But then December came around-”

“And you couldn’t get it out of your mind,” Hannibal finished for him. Will nodded.

“Right. I came here to talk, but you weren’t home. We have never communicated well in your office, and I knew that once you got home, we could discuss what happened. I still have my keys to the house, so I let myself in.” He swallowed, his eyes troubled. Hannibal watched his Adam’s apple bob, fascinated by the movement beneath Will’s skin. He wanted to lick the flesh there, watch as Will’s head fell back in offering. _Calm yourself. That_ _’s not what this is about._

“I saw the space where the tree needed to be,” Will continued. “I know I could have waited, but-” Hannibal nodded in understanding.

“Today is December 1st.” Will smiled.

“Exactly. I went out to a tree lot and bought the nicest tree they had. It wasn’t quite the same, but I couldn’t go to the farm without you.” They moved slowly through the room, still swaying to the music as they spoke. 

“How did you know where the ornaments were?” Hannibal asked, the answer already formulating in his mind.

“I know you,” Will replied fondly, resting their foreheads together. Hannibal’s stomach clenched at the touch of their skin. “I knew they’d be up in the attic. You even labeled the box. Once I got the tree up, it was just a matter of time.” They stopped moving as the song ended, holding one another as they breathed together. Hannibal closed his eyes and absorbed everything that was occurring, willing his emotions under control. Will’s cool fingers stroked his cheek, tracing the lines of his tears tenderly.

“Hannibal,” he whispered. “Look up, love.” Hannibal’s eyes opened of their own accord, raising up towards the ceiling. Dangling above them in bunches was the familiar bright green of Mistletoe. Licking his lips, he met Will’s fond gaze, eyes all swollen pupil.

“Kiss me,” Will whispered. Hannibal’s heart shattered apart at the first tentative press of their lips, the feeling so familiar, he wanted to weep. Will gasped and pulled him forward, bringing their mouths together with a moan. At the first seeking brush of his tongue, Hannibal opened his mouth. They groaned as their contact deepened, the sound swallowed in the passion of their connection. Without thinking, Hannibal backed the profiler up until his back bumped the wall, and covered his body with his own. He cupped Will’s face in his hands, relishing in the scrape of stubble along his palms as he reclaimed the soft and warm mouth beneath his own. They kissed until their jaws ached, hands winding into hair and raking it on end, gasping into each other’s mouths.

Hannibal bent down and swept Will into his arms, carrying him through the darkened house to the bedroom. He left the door open so they could see the bright multicolored glow as they came together. The colors of the lights danced in Will’s eyes as Hannibal pushed his way inside the oiled and molten heat of his body. The hues painted themselves across their limbs as they moved together, whispering their forgiveness into the minuscule space between them, only fading in the early morning light that surrounded them as they lie slumbering. 

Will fell asleep with his hand over Hannibal’s heart, the fierce beat beneath his palms a reminder that Christmas was a time for forgiveness, for family, and for love.


End file.
